Guy was fundamentally wanting in that strength which was so essentially a part of his own character, and he had been compelled at last to admit that no outside influence could supply the want.

He had come very reluctantly to realize that no faith could be reposed in him, and when that conviction had taken final hold upon him, Burke had relinquished the struggle in disgust.
Yet, curiously, behind all his disappointment, even contempt, there yet lurked in his soul an odd liking for the young man.

Guy was most strangely likable, however deep he sank.

Unstable, unreliable, wholly outside the pale as he was, yet there ever hung about him a nameless, indescribable fascination which redeemed him from utter degradation, a charm which very curiously kept him from being classed with the swine.

There was a natural gameness about him that men found good.